Gene stirred sometime past midnight, mouth dry and back aching. Alex's door swam in front of his vision and for one sublime moment his mind forgot to catch up with his body and her betrayal didn't figure in his thoughts. The memory of the photographs and her sobbing pleas soon slammed into him as he stood, cursing the hardness of the floor and his own idiocy for falling asleep. Since when did Gene Hunt shy from confrontation, since when did he falter?

He felt his jaw and gaze harden, all traces of drowsiness draining from him now. Moving forwards, he raised a fist to bang against her door.

"Drake!" Her surname lunged from the back of his throat, a wounded animal on the defensive. "Drake, open this door!"

Within the flat, there was a hammering from the inside of Alex's skull. She surfaced to consciousness slowly, bleary eyed and pained. It took her a few disorientated moments to register that the hammering was both inside and outside her own mind and her muscles responded feebly as she struggled to her feet. She connected the dots hazily, the emptiness in her chest gaping at each remembrance – the photos, Gene's rage, the all-consuming fear of the irretrievable… A million emotions exploded inside Alex at once: searing pain, blinding rage, a cutting hurt and the frustrated numbness that only alcohol could bring.

Clutching first the kitchen counter and then the wall for support, she felt her way to the front door. Gene's face was once more thunder and steel as he stood on her threshold and Alex felt again the waves of hopelessness crash over her, stinging in their retreat as they scraped her hollow. She let him in, pressing herself against the wall as he passed her and wishing, absurdly, that she could reach for him. If she could just touch him, press her palm to his cheek and convince him that she was there, she hadn't meant to, she had been trying to save them. But he looked so cold, so utterly unlike the warm and caring man she knew he could be, that she could do nothing but shrink back.

Gene noted the empty bottles on the kitchen floor, the mess of spilt wine and the dark red stains at the corners of Alex's lips. She looked a mess. More than that. She looked broken, watching him with terrified, sorrowful eyes and an ashen face. Her words, when she spoke, were broken too – impossibly quiet and utterly devoid of the fight he usually associated with her.

"What do you want, Gene?"

You was the first answer that came, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind. It stung as he swallowed it with a bitter reminder to himself of what she had done, how she had –

It occurred to him that beyond that first instinctual response, Gene didn't know what he wanted or why he had come. For an explanation, perhaps, for more excuses. What good would they do?

Finally, he asked, voice brittle and cold: "Was he good, Alex? Did he tick all your boxes like a good little pencil pusher?"

She slapped him. The force of it left his cheek red and the back of her own hand tingling as she swallowed. "You bastard," she hissed, moving now towards him. She felt the storm building inside of her, felt the tidal surge of saltwater behind her eyes and a fury in her chest as her eyes met his glare for glare.

"You're so wrapped up in your own pride, so self-absorbed by your own pain and your own jealousy that you can't see outside of yourself, can't even stop to think that maybe I didn't want to do it." The words dripped from her tongue like venom, acidic and volatile, and once she had started she couldn't stop. "Did you not wonder for just a moment, Gene, if I wasn't forced into it? He had us all over a barrel, you selfish, pig-headed arse! And to think I was actually trying to save you."

The tears streamed down Alex's face, hot and angry. She had stalked towards him and now she fisted his shirt in her hands, clutching him as though wishing she could shake the anger and disbelief from him. Her fear caught up with her as she met his gaze.

"He was going to ruin you, Gene," she said quietly, but somehow the quiet defeat was worse than the venom. "He was going to ruin all of us, unless I did as he said, so I…I…" The steel came back into her voice and flashed in her eyes. She shoved him viciously away. "And fuck you, Gene, for judging me. FUCK YOU for thinking that I would ever willingly choose that slimy, creeping, son of a bitch over you. Fuck you, Gene. Fuck you."

As quickly as it had come, the fight flooded out of her and she moved back, crying as she dropped down onto the sofa and hid her face in her hands. For a stunned moment, Gene stared at the trembling of her shoulders aghast, self-contempt boiling inside of him. The photos, the angle, the fact the photographer never caught her face… It had all been wrong, right from the start. He had been too blind to see it. Too selfish, too jealous, too goddamn self-righteous to actually protect her. Gene felt sick.

"Alex – "

She lifted her head from her hands but kept her gaze trained on the floor. "I thought you trusted me, Gene," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you knew me better, thought you had a shred of respect for me."

He moved toward her, barely breathing. "Bols – "

Alex's head swung and she met his gaze. She looked empty. "I gave everything to keep you safe, to keep all of us safe. And you couldn't even give me the benefit of the doubt long enough for me to explain. What does that say about us, about you?"

"Alex, please – "

She shook her head, swallowing over the lump in her throat. "Leave me alone, Gene. You got what you came for. Your precious pride can remain intact a little longer."

"Bols, I'm sorry, please – "

"GET OUT!"

The shriek tore from her lungs, savage and splintered. As its echoes faded, Alex folded over double, sobs wracking her body again as she convulsed, pulling her knees into herself as though trying to shrink as small as possible. Gene had no words. He dropped down onto the sofa beside her and dragged her into his arms. She barely struggled but went limp against his chest as Gene clutched her to him, chin resting on the top of her head.

I'm so sorry this chapter was later than it really should have been. Results day is coming up and I've mostly been spending my days in a strange anxious, despondent stupor. I'm so grateful to all of you for reading and reviewing though, it makes my day when those email alerts come in! There's just one chapter left of this story to go - hopefully I can get it to you a little sooner!

Eleanor :)